Morning Glory-Francis (Reign)

Chapter Thirteen

As if the King and Queen returning to court wasn't already enough cause for chaos, my mother announced that at the new Tsaritsa's coronation, she had offered for the new queen to come visit French court for a while, and to everyone's surprise, she agreed. The castle had been thrown into a whirlwind of preparations for her visit, preparing her chambers, organizing parties, all of it. I, personally, was dreading her visit.

Once they returned, my parents had not so subtly hinted to me that they may consider breaking my engagement to Mary in order to form a new marriage alliance with Russia. Apparently, their visit to Moscow had made quite the impression on France and the rest of Europe. Russia would become a formidable opponent, should you anger its new ruler. And its people would follow.

I heard stories about common folk and nobles alike who were prepared to lay down their lives for Anya. She had been queen for less than a week and already had an army twice the size of France's. France may have a larger population than Russia by far, but her people loved her much more than ours to us.

Breaking my long term engagement to Mary, however, did not seem like a good idea. I remember as a child, playing with her, how headstrong she was, how stubborn. I had not seen Mary in years because she was hidden away at a convent, but I doubted she had lost any of her personality.

I didn't love Mary though. Not having to marry her sounded like a blessing, but not just in order to marry someone else.

If anything, I missed Anna. Each night, I sat at my desk for hours, hoping that would be the night she would come back to French court. I knew she would be grieving, and I knew I should be patient, give her time, but I missed my Morning Glory.

I barely noticed a thing as the week passed, and the Tsaritsa's arrival grew nearer. The day before her scheduled arrival, a carriage full of Russian servants stopped at the castle, to begin settling in the Tsaritsa's things before she arrived. I tried to bribe some of the Russian servants to tell me about the Tsaritsa, to learn something about the woman I may be made to marry. My inquiries, however, were futile. None of the servants I managed to stop spoke French.

The next day, the entirety of the French nobility currently staying at court stood out in the courtyard, ready to greet the Tsaritsa Anya. I could tell my parents were nervous, desperate to put out a strong image, as Russia obviously had at their coronation.

Two carriages, escorted by a small company of riding soldiers, approached the castle. When they drew closer, I could make out the seal of the House of Vavora on the side.

Out of the first carriage stepped a young man, slightly younger than myself. He had reddish brown hair, cut shorter, more like Bash's.

"His Highness, the Tsarevich, Dmitri of the Honorable House of Vavora!" A herald called from the side. Dmitri approached first my father, bowing to him and my mother before turning to me.

"Your Highness, it's an honor to meet you, Dauphin." Dmitri bowed slightly.

"The honor is mine." I returned the gesture.

Out of the next carriage, first came two ladies, not dressed as grandly as I imagined the Tsaritsa to be. My confusion was quickly cleared when they were announced as Her Majesty's Ladies. Anfisa and Elizaveta, they were called. They didn't leave the side of the carriage, waiting for their Lady to emerge before coming to say hello.

There was a slight lull in the moment, almost like Anya wanted to make a dramatic entrance. First a head covered in bright red hair appeared through the door. Then came the rest of her, wearing a pitch black traveling cloak, over a black gown. After a moment, I realized that the entire Russian delegation was garbed in black. Then I remembered that the Tsaritsa had just lost her parents, as well as her younger brother, Mikhail.

Her entire figure was imposing, especially against the light grey winter landscape of France. Her flaming hair was piled high on her head, elaborately braided and twisted, a few tendrils laying against the furry collar of her cloak. Even though she had yet to raise her head to look upon the French Royal Family, I could tell this was a very powerful woman.

But when she looked up, I lost my breath for a moment. I managed to stifle a gasp, but my eyes widened so far I thought they might fall out of my head. I would recognize my Anna anywhere.

As I looked over her, in all her glory, I realized that this attire, the one of a queen, suited her much better. It matched her posture. And her name, Anya. Suited her better as well, I thought.

"Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, Anya of the Honorable House of Vavora!" The herald called. Confidently, Anya walked over to my parents, her ladies flanking her. The two queens bowed their heads to each other, before they spoke.

"Queen Catherine, it's good to see you again." Her voice was clearly recognizable. Even though now she let her Russian accent creep into her perfect French, I could tell it was my Anya, right there in front of me.

"You as well, Tsaritsa." My mother bowed her head once more before Anya turned to my father. They exchanged a similar greeting. Then she turned to me.

When our eyes met, I froze for a moment. It was rather embarrassing, but I had not seen one of my closest friends for weeks, and I missed her. Luckily, I managed to recover myself before anyone noticed. At least I hope.

"Your Majesty," I said, bowing, though not breaking her gaze, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"And you, Dauphin. Your mother has told me so much about you." She smiled, bowing her head slightly. I was sure she was telling the truth. Though my mother probably never said outright that she wanted to form a marriage alliance, surely she tried to open Anya up to the idea.

"I certainly hope you enjoy your stay, Tsaritsa." My father addressed her, as we began our walk towards the castle.

"I'm sure I will, King Henry," I caught Anya's eye for a split second. "This place already feels familiar."